I fall down
by ofb29
Summary: Everyone has a breaking point... (final chapter)
1. falling

I fall down  
  
I decided I've had my fill of romance and decided to darken it all down…  
Feedback is not just approved, it is your right J  
Sara slammed the door on her way in. Not finding any solace in the sudden noise she slammed the door on her bedroom, then the bathroom. It still didn't help. She still burned inside with the injustice, with the downright hypocritical so called justice system that let off a murdering scumbag just because of some technicality. She punched the porcelain sink, not feeling the crunch as bones collided, as skin split open as she did it again and again. She'd had him. She'd collected the evidence. And now he was out on the street, just waiting to do it all again.  
  
Punk. Bastard. She left the sink, ignoring the throbbing in her hand, the picture of herself reflected back at herself. She didn't need to see to know the wild look in her eyes, that uncontrollable desire to hit something and keep hitting it till either she couldn't feel it anymore or the other person crumbled. It had taken three police detectives to keep her from the guy. Now she was alone, but had nothing to punch, nothing flesh like to take this anger out on.  
  
On a damn technicality. He'd killed her. Oh, he might not have pulled the trigger, but he might as well have done for all he did do. But in their stupid legal system might as well as done wasn't good enough.   
  
The silence in the apartment was stifling, closing in on her as she stood in the centre of the lounge. She stalked to the Hi-Fi, using the remote to turn it on and turn it up, the first heavy rock song she could find filling the apartment to overflow. The incessant base took up the beat in her head, behind her eyes, bringing on a monster headache. She rubbed at her temples. She needed to do something, anything to get this energy out. Needed to move, needed to stop thinking about him. His smug punk ass face gloating as he realised that he had just gotten away with it.  
  
Sara was glad she had been sent home, because now she didn't have to tell her family that the scum who had murdered their own was going to get away with it. She didn't have to tell Mrs Delaney that her daughter's killer was going to walk free. She reluctantly thought about Keely, the daughter Mrs Delaney had spoken so passionately about, the girl she had had the mis-fortune to meet on the day she had died. Shot in the head with a .38 special.  
  
The aim point blank range, centre of the forehead. Gun in the girls hand. Suicide considered, but put on the back burner. Girls didn't shoot themselves. They took overdoses, slit their wrists; the non-violent approach to death. The setting looked staged to Sara's trained eye. The body moved post-mortem confirmed by the coroner on his prelim.   
  
Sara found the bottle of whiskey in the kitchen cupboard. She wasn't sure why it was there, she didn't even like whiskey. She usually stuck to the Bacardi or Malibu. She poured it into a mug anyway, filling it to the top, settling back into bad habits of her way of dealing with stress. It had been Grissom's idea, in the beginning. To find something non-work related. She wasn't sure he would approve of the drink idea, but hey, she had found something that worked, and he hadn't been complaining so much recently about her work habits. One thing about the drink, it sure helped her to sleep through the nightmares.  
  
Someone else had been there. Sara had suspected that right from the beginning. It had finally been confirming by the second set of prints lifted from the gun barrel. Someone else had been there. Someone had done this, Sara was convinced.  
  
She had interviewed the family, school friends. Everyone sung the same tune- Keely was a popular girl, well known, well liked. Everyone was gonna miss her terribly. Pretty, outspoken, hung with the cool kids.   
  
So why did a cool, popular girl kill herself, or come to be killed. Her boyfriend instantly put Sara on edge. Put the suspicions on himself the first time she had talked to him and he had told her that Keely was a good lay, someone he could rely on for a good time.  
  
Did he see her the day of the murder?  
  
Sure, he had seen her at school.  
  
Had they spoken?  
  
Said hello, arranged to meet up later.  
  
What for?  
  
For a session. 'She was well up for it.'  
  
The fingerprints had been in process, had arrived hand delivered in the middle of the interview.  
  
Sara could almost watch herself turning towards him. 'Want to explain how your prints were on the gun?'  
  
He had looked at her, a grin tugging at the corner of his mouth. A tiny shrug of his shoulder. 'She was upset. I had gone round there for a session. She had been upset. I took the gun off her, told her to sleep, we'd meet up in the morning.'  
  
'So you tried to stop her?' Sara couldn't hide the incredulous tone to her voice.  
  
'Yeah, man, I tried to stop her.'  
  
'So, why was she upset?'  
  
'How should I know? I just screwed her.'  
  
Sara had been very tempted to knock some sense into him, but took a deep breath, held her thinly stretched patience together. 'Did you have an argument?'  
  
'Nah, we never argued. She wanted it too bad.'  
  
'Did you say anything to upset her?'  
  
'Nah. What could I possibly have said?'  
  
Remembering, Sara took a second gulp of whiskey. Then gave up on just taking sips and slugged the whole mug down in one. Feeling the slow burn deep in the pit of her stomach, feeling the general hazyness begin to settle.  
  
Sara had walked out, needing something, anything to pin on him. She had gone back to the school, asked to talk to the class in small groups. She was there all afternoon, lack of sleep and annoyance making her short of temper. Till she hit pay dirt as one guy finally confessed that everyone knew Keely was an easy lay, and that Mike had found out.  
  
'Found out what?' She had asked deliberately slowly, carefully, trying to force the emotion from her voice.  
  
'That she was sleeping around on him.'  
  
'Was he upset?'  
  
'Are you kidding? He was hopping mad.' He had looked at her, looked all around him as if to check he was on his own, then leaned into her. 'Look, reputation is very important in this school. When Mike found out his girlfriend was cheating on him it wasn't so much the cheating part that got to him, it was the fact that his girlfriend was seen as easy. It's just not done.'  
  
The second mug of whiskey slid down easier than the first, it's path all ready cremated, the effects hitting hard and fast.  
  
She had gone back into that room. To him. Asked him straight out whether he had killed Keely because she had been sleeping around.  
  
Of course, the lawyer pointed out that her client had already denied this. Rich kid with Daddy's lawyer.  
  
Sara had held her tongue, but it had been a hard long battle. She had turned back to Mike. 'How did you feel when you found out Keely was cheating on you?'  
  
'Mad, ya know? She was my girlfriend.'  
  
'Why were you mad? You were only in it for the sex, weren't you?'  
  
'She had no right to sleep with anyone else. Whore.'  
  
'So you were mad at her. You went round her house, with a .38 special and you shot her.'  
  
'I did not shoot her.'  
  
'You shot her because you didn't have the perfect girlfriend anymore.'  
  
'I did not shoot her.'  
  
'You took the gun off her?'  
  
'Right.'  
A flippant comment made that afternoon by one of Keely's friends came back to her. 'She was hung on him. She was smart, popular, I never knew what she saw in him. But she had something because she did anything he told her to do.'  
  
'Where was she, when you came in the house?'  
  
'In her bedroom.'  
  
'You let yourself in?'  
  
'As always. My parents and hers are friends. I've been going round there since I was a kid.'  
'Did she say why she was holding a gun to her head?'  
  
'She said she didn't want to live anymore. She had had enough.'  
  
'What did you do?'  
  
'I took the gun off her, told her she was being silly. Told her it would look better in the morning.'  
  
'What did you do then?'  
  
'I left. Put the gun back in the cupboard downstairs, and left.'  
  
'Her alone? How did you know where to put the gun?'  
  
'It was her Dad's. As I said, I've been going round there since I was little.'  
  
'Look, my client has told you what has happened. If you have no further evidence to support your claim, then I'm moving to terminate this interview now.'  
  
Sara collapsed on the sofa, her legs unable to support her, the tears starting in earnest.  
  
They didn't have the evidence, just a lot of hearsay and conjecture. The fingerprints were confusing. But as Sara nodded, stood up, she saw it play in her minds eye, the little evidence they had finally falling into place.  
  
'You got her to shoot herself.'  
  
Mike had stood up, been about to leave. 'What?' He had asked.  
  
'You took the gun up to her, told her you knew what she had been doing behind your back, and got her to shoot herself. That's why the your fingerprints on the barrel, but hers are on the trigger.'  
  
He hadn't said anything, and as the scene got clearer in her head, so her voice had began to rose, the fight with her temper a lost battle.  
  
'You sat there, and handed her the gun and told her that it was the only way. She wasn't perfect anymore, she had a reputation. What would dear old mommy and daddy say? What if they heard the rumours. And she was going to lose you. And you sat there and convinced her that her life was so desperate that she had no other option than to kill herself.'  
  
And he had looked at her, with that same smug expression, and said to her. 'Prove it.'  
  
Brass had walked her to Grissom's office, his silence speaking volumes. He believed her, knew she was right, but she had crossed the line, let a case get personal. The look on Grissom's face as Brass told him the details, his reflection Sara watched off some glass monitor as she steadfastly refused to meet his eye.  
  
Administrative leave…full enquiry…assault charges…the words meant little as Grissom had detailed them before telling her to go home.  
  
She didn't remember getting home, was surprised that she hadn't been arrested for reckless driving as well.  
  
And as she sat on the sofa, head in her hands, she thought back to the stress of high school, being a loner, wanting nothing more than to be part of a gang, to belong to something. Joined CSI became part of a team, still ended up on the outside looking in. Loneliness was a bitch. Why hadn't Grissom ever included that in all his lectures?  
  
She gave up on the mug, and drunk from the bottle instead, waiting, praying for the alcohol to hit, to send her to sleep, wondering if she had enough strength in her to reach the medicine cabinet in the bathroom to help her on the way. 


	2. why didn't you catch me

2. Why didn't you catch me.  
  
A. N. I don't know if anyone wanted me to carry this on. It was gonna be a one off, but this has been floating around on my hard drive for a while, so I decided to post it.  
  
'We're gonna be one short, so we're gonna be stretched.' Grissom's announcement was meet with understandable curiosity.  
  
'Where's Sara?' Nick finally asked.  
  
'She's been suspended.' Grissom stated.  
  
'Suspended? Why?' Catherine asked; they were all visibly shocked.  
  
'She attacked a suspect in custody, who's now suing her for assault.'  
  
'Sara did?' Catherine checked.  
  
'Oh man.' Nick added.  
  
'Catherine, I want you and Warrick to follow up on Sara's case, get all the facts together, get Sara's statement.'  
  
'Is that wise?' Catherine asked.  
  
'I'm not letting Eckley do it.' Grissom stated. 'Look, say now if you really don't want to. All I want you to do is go over the case, and make sure Sara has everything down in writing, now, before she can forget anything.'  
  
Catherine and Warrick exchanged a look, before Catherine nodded at Grissom. 'Ok.'  
  
'What about me?' Nick asked. 'I want to do this.'  
  
'No.' The flat response from Grissom was final. 'We've got one more case, a homicide to work as well. You're with me.'  
  
Catherine and Warrick didn't speak until they were alone in the car.  
  
'I can't believe it.'  
  
Warrick broke the eye contact with the road, to look at Catherine. 'I know.'  
  
'What was she thinking?'  
  
'Why wasn't she thinking?' Warrick corrected.  
  
'Why didn't she stop herself? Why didn't she leave before it got that far?' Catherine wondered out loud.  
  
'Maybe she didn't realise.' Warrick said. 'Is it left or right at the lights?'  
  
Catherine consulted the town map she had. 'Left. Then first right.'  
  
'What was the case?' Warrick asked.  
  
Catherine pulled out the file, finding crime details, forensic details neatly scripted in Sara's easy to read handwriting. 'Um fifteen year old found dead in her bathroom, swallowed a gun. Two sets of prints on the gun, hers and the boyfriend's.'  
  
'He a suspect?'  
  
'To Sara. Brass's report states that she accused the boyfriend of talking the vic into shooting herself.'  
  
'He denied it?' Warrick guessed.  
  
'Not exactly. He told her to prove it. Which is when she tried to attack him.'  
  
'That's not like Sara.'  
  
'Why was she solo on this case?' Catherine wondered.  
  
'We all had other cases ongoing.' Warrick reminded her.  
  
'Why didn't Sara ask for someone?'  
  
'Ever known Sara to ask for help?'  
  
'Man, this is going to be hard.'  
  
They turned into Sara's street, driving slowly, trying to see apartment numbers. They pulled up outside a two story, non-descript house, split into two apartments. Sara's was on the ground floor, the top floor had a 'for let' sign.  
  
The windows were all in darkness. Catherine checked her watch, seeing it was just past nine. 'Do you reckon she's asleep?'  
  
'No.' Warrick said immediately.  
  
Catherine led Warrick to the door, where she pressed Sara's doorbell. They waited a full minute before she repeated the action, still to no answer.  
  
'She's ignoring us?' Warrick suggested.  
  
'Probably.' Catherine pulled out her cell phone, scrolling through the phonebook to Sara's number. Sara's cell must have been off, as it cut straight through to voice mail. 'Have you got her home number?' Catherine asked Warrick.  
  
'No. But Nick might have it.'  
  
Catherine rung Nick, and he did indeed have the number. Warrick dialled it as Catherine said it out loud, hearing the phone begin to ring in the downstairs room. But that was all it did; ring, for five minutes till Warrick finally gave up and hit the end button.  
  
'What do we do?' Warrick asked. Catherine had turned to the door, pulling on the handle even though she didn't expect it to open.  
  
It opened without resistance.  
  
They exchanged looks. Catherine squinted down at the lock, seeing that it had been put on latch. She shrugged, kicking the door open fully, and walking into a small hallway. Sara's front door was to their left, the stairs directly in front of them.  
  
Catherine wasted no time, knocking on Sara's door, even calling her name, identifying them, telling her why they were there.  
  
Still no response.  
  
'Come on, Catherine. No one's here. Let's go.'  
  
They had no reason to look twice at the green Ford parked across the street. They left the street, wondering what they were going to tell Grissom.  
  
Sara had seen guns from many angles before. This gun was resting on the floor, pinned to it by a heavy hand. As hands went it was fairly ordinary; a few stray hairs at the knuckles, the fingernails bitten short.  
  
Underneath his hand, she knew it was a Glock, police issue. It was her gun after all. She'd just never thought that she would see it with the barrel pointed in her direction.  
  
She looked up into those eyes, those strange grey eyes staring at her across the hall, and wondered how this had happened.  
  
Her legs were beginning to cramp in the position she was sitting, knees bent, legs under her, back against the wall. He was two foot from her, his bent knee barely eluding hers. He hadn't shifted position in two hours. She wasn't about to move without instructions. So they sat, staring at each other, staring at the gun. A strange cycle of looking. Almost daring the other to be the first to move. Move for the gun.  
  
He was growing into his looks. He was barely seventeen, the muscle starting to build on the body, baby fat turning hard as the body responded to the cascade of hormones deluging on it. His hair was shaved close to the scalp, showing off an old scar on the edge of the hairline. Sara focused on the scar for a moment, wondering about the story behind it, the scientist in her wanting to know the cause, the infliction, the age.wanting to know.  
  
The phone ringing barely broke through her concentrated look on his face, studying his eyes. Studying him for any ounce of knowledge he could offer her about her current situation. The headache drummed up once again, beating along at the same time as the phone ring, Sara swearing off alcohol as she had been doing all day since waking up and having to make a run for the bathroom.  
  
She was relieved when the phone stopped. Relieved for the silence, relieved for the sudden peace. Relieved till the banging started.  
  
She looked back at his eyes, seeing the quick look he shot towards the door, barely five feet away. She heard Catherine call her name, tell her that they had come for a statement. Finally giving up, saying they would get back to her.  
  
She turned her attention back to him. 'Why did you come here?' She asked.  
  
He studied her intently for a second, doing back much like she had just done to him. 'To give you the proof you need.' He finally answered, a small smile of relief evident on his face. 


	3. before the fall

.before the fall?  
  
'So, where are we with this?'  
  
'Out in the cold without a coat.'  
  
'Or scarf, or gloves, or a hat or clothes really.'  
  
'Yep, we're in the cold.'  
  
'So, what do we do? We have a missing suspect slash victim.'  
  
'And a missing accuser slash suspect.'  
  
'We have a whole lot of missing things.' Catherine summarised.  
  
She and Warrick were sitting in an empty lab, at the end of shift, trying to summarise what they hadn't managed during the shift.  
  
'So, we need to find Sara.'  
  
'And Mike Laskey.' Warrick said.  
  
'Why would the kid want to disappear after suing a CSI for assault?' Catherine wondered out loud.  
  
'Daddy reckoned he was just out with friends.'  
  
'He hasn't seen him since an hour after coming home from the police station. If your son had just been in for questioning on a possible homicide, would you let him out of your sight that quick.'  
  
'He's just been cleared.' Warrick pointed out. 'He's seventeen. He'd wanna celebrate, right?'  
  
'Celebrate, even though the girlfriend's still dead, even if it was self inflicted.'  
  
'Oh, it was self-inflicted. Coroner's report- verdict? Suicide.' Warrick said.  
  
'Yeah.'  
  
'But?'  
  
'Something's don't add up. His finger prints on the gun she killed herself with.'  
  
'He tried to stop her.'  
  
'The fact that girls rarely kill themselves in so violent a manner. They do the OD, or the gassing.'  
  
'Rare, but it happens.'  
  
'She's a pretty girl. She's about to kill herself. She wouldn't want to destroy her good looks, ruin her parents completely.'  
  
'She was about to kill herself, why would she care what she looks like after. She'd be dead.'  
  
'Yeah, but.look, suicides plan. It's rarely a spur of the moment decision. It's something that grows out of depression, of events around you. They plan it down to the note they write. That's the other thing, why no note?'  
  
'Perhaps this was spur of the moment.'  
  
'So why didn't the boyfriend convince her that to not do it?'  
  
'Perhaps because he was the cause of it.'  
  
'Because she was sleeping around, and he had found out.' Catherine shook her head. 'Doesn't make sense.'  
  
'Sure it does. Private school like that, your reps gotta be important.'  
  
'Yeah, but to suddenly bite the bullet, without any thought.'  
  
'Perhaps worried about letting the rents down. Would also explain why she really didn't care what she looked like.'  
  
'No, it would make her more aware of it. She'd let her parents down on one thing, she wouldn't want to ruin the chance of an open casket funeral.'  
  
'Guns in the house.' Warrick answered with a shrug. 'No planning, no time to consider, grab the nearest thing that's gonna make you dead.'  
  
'Paracetemol in the bathroom cabinet. Right above her head. Along with mother's anti-depressants and daddy's nifedipine.' Catherine told him. 'Why not go for the silent approach?'  
  
'Wasn't thinking straight.'  
  
'The boyfriend say's he went round, forced the gun from her hand, locked it back up. If this was so spur of the moment, how come the boyfriend happened upon her, gun in hand? Why hadn't she shot herself outright?'  
  
'Chance?'  
  
'Don't believe in it.' Catherine told him. 'And if it's so spur of the moment, why, after the boyfriend has gone to the trouble of locking the gun up again, did she leave the bathroom and go and get it again, knowing that there was enough drugs five feet away to send her into peaceful oblivion.'  
  
'Making a statement- boyfriend doesn't control her?' Warrick suggested.  
  
'That's the other thing I don't like. The boyfriend happens upon his girlfriend, gun in hand, threatening to kill herself, so he removes the gun blah blah blah. But then he leaves her? Would you really walk out on someone you're meant to at least care about, minutes after finding them with a gun to their temple? Wouldn't you at least wait until someone else was at home?'  
  
'Perhaps she asked him to leave, so mummy and daddy didn't get suspicious.'  
  
'He was the boyfriend. There all the time, from childhood. They would almost expect him there, surely.'  
  
'I don't know Catherine. All I know is, whatever screwed up thing happened in that bathroom, the girl pulled the trigger and that makes her responsible.'  
  
'It doesn't feel right though. Where's the boyfriend if he's so innocent?'  
  
'Maybe he doesn't feel so innocent. He did leave her alone. Maybe the guilt's setting in?'  
  
'We have a missing boyfriend.'  
  
'And more importantly, we have a missing Sara.'  
  
Grissom walked in at that moment. 'Sara's missing?'  
  
'Not at home. Not answering her phone.' Warrick told him.  
  
'What about the case?'  
  
'She covered it all. Not a lot we can do about it.' Catherine filled in.  
  
'So it was suicide?'  
  
Catherine shrugged. 'For lack of further evidence, yeah.'  
  
'Why don't I like the sound of that?'  
  
'Because I don't like the feel of it. Something happened, but there's not a lot else we can do. Only two people will ever know what happened in that bathroom. One's dead, and the other is too clever to let anything drop.' Catherine summarised, somewhat bitterly.  
  
Grissom gave her a sharp look.  
  
'I'm not saying it gave Sara any right to do what she.allegedly. did but still. Something's not right about the case.'  
  
'There's no excuse for what Sara did.' Grissom said. 'She let a case get personal.'  
  
'Still.you can't honestly think of sacking her, can you?' Warrick asked, thinking of more than a few times he should have been sacked for his unprofessional actions.  
  
'I don't know. That's why I need your report, and her statement. Tonight, beginning of shift- find her, get it down on paper.'  
  
They nodded their understanding.  
  
'And finish the case. Make it watertight. I don't want any holes picked in it.' Grissom added, turning to leave the lab.  
  
'That might be a problem.' Catherine said reluctantly.  
  
'Why?' Grissom asked, turning in the doorway to look at them.  
  
'The boyfriend? Mike. He's missing.'  
  
'Missing as in not seen in twenty four hours, filed report, missing.'  
  
'Near enough.'  
  
Grissom re-entered the room, closing the door, waiting for the details.  
  
Catherine provided them. 'Walked out of home, an hour after leaving here, hasn't been seen since.'  
  
'And what do the parents think of this- he's a minor, right?'  
  
Catherine shrugged. 'They don't appear unduly worried.'  
  
'Are they gonna report it?'  
  
'Not when we saw them. But as it's twelve hours later, and they haven't called to say he's turned up, I would imagine it's occurring to them.'  
  
'Add that to your list of things to do tonight.'  
  
'Find Mike. Find Sara. Get this case closed. Party?'  
  
'Breakfast, maybe.'  
  
Food. No water. Water. She was gagging for it. Her mouth felt so cracked, like someone had poured concrete in it, then let it bake in the sun. Her legs, she was fairly certain, would never move again. They had exited the pins and needles stage long ago. Occasionally, the muscles would cramp, but that was the only feeling in them right now.  
  
'You don't remember me, do you?' It was the first time he had addressed her with a question.  
  
'I might have had a lot of alcohol, but my short term memory's not that bad.' Sara told him.  
  
'You should have listened to me then.'  
  
Sara tried to think back, tried to remember him, but failed. He just wouldn't connect with any memories of cases she held.  
  
'Should have listened to the evidence.'  
  
'Why don't you repeat it for me?' Sara asked, but was met with mirthful laughter.  
  
She took it as a refusal.  
  
'You should have seen the bigger picture.' He said, almost in a whisper. 


	4. how much further is there to fall?

'Can I have a drink of water?' Sara asked, having to clear her throat several times to make her voice work.  
  
Mike looked at her, seeming to consider the question.  
  
'Or at least use the bathroom? I'm about to wet myself.'  
  
'And let you escape through the window?'  
  
'It's barred. I'm a CSI, remember? I know what sick things happen.'  
  
'Didn't stop me, though, did you?'  
  
'Give me time.'  
  
'You should be more careful about opening the door.' He lectured her.  
  
'I'll remember that next time.' Sara answered dryly. She hadn't expected it. Who would, at eight in the morning? And who knew he was so strong? He'd got her to the ground, found her gun, without seeming to break a sweat.  
  
And here she was, still sitting. Confused about what the hell had happened. And why.  
  
'Mike, please, tell me how I'm meant to know you.' Sara tried again.  
  
It was light outside. She must have been sitting in the same position for getting onto twenty-four hours. She highly doubted she'd be able to get her legs to feel again. Twenty-four hours. Was anyone missing her yet? Was there anyone to miss her? She'd thrown away her career, on the jerk that was opposite her. And that was all she had. Her career. All she'd ever wanted.  
  
She looked up at Mike, new resolve rushing her veins suddenly.  
  
'Come on, Mike. You're holding me at gunpoint. Why not at least tell me why?'  
  
'Should have seen the truth.'  
  
'I don't know what you're talking about.' Sara said, feeling a lump in her throat, having to work hard to keep the sob from her voice. The riddles were not helping. How was she meant to know him? She was sure she had never met him before, certainly never in a professional capacity. How could she have forgotten him.  
  
She looked up, focused on his face, surprised to see tears falling from his eyes. Suddenly the grey eyes, for a split second, looked strangely familiar. But as soon as she focused on it, the recollection left, leaving her frustrated again. She knew him. But from where, or why, she had no idea.  
  
Or was she making it up? Was the desperation she was feeling making her brain believe she knew him to make it feel better? Was it trying to put memories where they simply didn't exist so that she would at least have something, anything to explain this? Explain why she was suddenly being held captive in her own home by a seventeen year old boy she had only met two days earlier.  
  
A boy she had effectively cleared of a murder/suicide he insisted he had nothing to do with.  
  
If he was so innocent, what was he doing here?  
  
What was he so scared about?  
  
And he was scared. He looked younger than his seventeen years, sitting across the hallway, a hand on the gun. He looked like he needed a hug, someone to tell him that it was all gonna be ok. Not like he could be sitting there holding her at gunpoint, for which end she had no idea.  
  
This made no sense. However much she thought about it, the only conclusion she could draw was that it made no sense.  
  
If he was so scared, why couldn't she reason with him? Why was he still here, here with her. What had she got to do with this? Why didn't she make a move to leave?  
  
Because she didn't want to end up with a bullet lodged in her spine. The only thing she truly believed at the moment was that he would shoot. Without a moment's hesitation. It was in his eyes, in his look.  
  
'This is all your fault!' he yelled at her suddenly, the gun, which had previously been lying on the floor suddenly at eye level, directed at her.  
  
'I don't know what you mean!' Sara yelled back in desperation. The gun firing was her only response.  
  
Brass stopped by the CSI break room, finding Warrick and Catherine having a coffee. 'Have you found her yet?' He asked, obviously agitated.  
  
They both shook their heads.  
  
He didn't like this. He didn't like that Sara had taken off without a word, after being accused of assault. It reeked too much like an omission of guilt.  
  
But that wasn't what was bothering him so much. He was pretty sure with a few words he could get charges dropped, get Mike to see he was lucky to be getting off scot free.  
  
It was the fact that she was gone. Sara wasn't the type to pick up and leave. She was the type to stay, to fight it out to the death. She wasn't the type to give up without even trying. It wasn't Sara's style.  
  
'We know.' Catherine said, making him jump slightly. He hadn't said anything.  
  
He gave her a questioning look.  
  
'We all think it's a little out of character for Sara.'  
  
'So was jumping across the table at a suspect.' Brass said, rubbing at his temples, feeling a headache threatening.  
  
'What was it about the case? You were there, you saw what happened.' Catherine asked.  
  
Brass thought for a moment, before shrugging. 'I don't know. Something about the interview though- it was.different.'  
  
'In what way?'  
  
'When they were talking, it was like they were the only two people in the room, the only people present, like they both forgot they weren't alone. It was.intense.'  
  
'Intense?'  
  
'Yeah- I'm not explaining it too well. But it was no normal case. I mean, Mike was arrogant. Completely believed he could get away with anything. I mean, he never denied that he had killed that girl. Sara disliked him, that was apparent from the outset. Especially when he said he had been using the girl for his reputation, that he only used her for sex. That really got to Sara. But I thought she was ok, I thought she had it under control. I never saw her about to jump the table. It was as if something just suddenly snapped.'  
  
'I've seen her worked up about cases before.' Catherine said thoughtfully.  
  
'This was more than that. This became a personal crusade almost. Sara just couldn't believe that the girl could kill herself- had her heart set on the fact that the guy did it.'  
  
'She should have got out.' Warrick said with a small shake of his head.  
  
'We've got to find her. God knows what she's gone and done.' Catherine said. 'Her job is her life- if she thinks Gil's gonna sack her, then.' Catherine trailed off, not knowing what Sara was likely to do.  
  
'Oh, some info for you- Mike's parents have failed a missing person's report.' Brass told them, as his cell phone rang. He answered it, his face deliberately blank as he listened, gave a single word acknowledgement before hanging up.  
  
'Shot's fired.' He said, finally looking up at the two CSI's. 'Sara's apartment building.'  
  
A cold streak of fear shot through the room as the three of them looked at each other for a split second before making a run for their cars.  
  
Please let me know if you think I should continue with this, if it makes any sense? 


	5. desperation

Sara's heart was pounding, her eyes stinging with unshed tears, the sound of the gun ringing loudly in her ears. For a moment all she could do was stare in disbelief at Mike. Then she slowly turned her head round to the side, looking to her left, towards the front door, seeing the bullet lodged about three inches from her head. So close that at this distance she couldn't even see it in focus.  
  
She slowly looked back at Mike, meeting his eyes, both of them staring wordlessly at the other.  
  
By the time the two CSIs and Brass got to the apartment building, it was already surrounded with cops, and even a media van had turned up. Brass shook his head as they walked over to the lead unit. 'How the hell did the media beat us?' he asked nobody in particular. 'Hey Bobby.' He added, as he neared an older looking guy sitting in his patrol unit. 'You were first on the scene.' It wasn't so much a question as a statement.  
  
'Yes sir.' Bobby answered anyway. He was forty, but a young forty, sporty looking, the uniform fitting his broad shoulders well.  
  
'Anyone been in or out?'  
  
'No sir. Still waiting to secure the perimeter and get hold of the landlord.' The cop said.  
  
'Ok, thank you.' Brass told him. He turned to Catherine and Warrick. 'You were here, anything out of the ordinary, anything wrong then?'  
  
'Not that we noticed. Except maybe the front door was on latch. But apart from that it was silent.' Catherine told him, pulling out her cell phone. 'I better let Gil and Nicky know what's going on.'  
  
'Might as well wait- we don't know anything yet.'  
  
'Captain?' A young cop called out to him. They all turned to the caller, a cop who barely looked old enough to be out of high school let alone be a cop, was stood with an older woman, who was looking mighty anxious. 'This is Mrs Jackson. She's in the top flat, called in the disturbance.' Officer Hayter told them as they walked over.  
  
'Hi, Mrs Jackson.' Brass said, briefly shaking her hand. She was only just sixty, if anything, her hair mainly grey, pulled into a loose ponytail. She had on a skirt and blouse.  
  
'I was just going to work. Heard the gunshot, and called you.' She told them without prompting.  
  
'At what time was this?'  
  
'Well, I leave at eight fifteen and I was at the front door when I heard it.'  
  
'Was it just the one shot?'  
  
'Just the one. So loud though. I might not have known what it was, but my husband used to live down the firing range, and dragged me along a few times.'  
  
'Is your husband.'  
  
'Deceased. Last year.'  
  
'I'm sorry to hear that.' Brass said. 'Have you noticed anything odd around here recently. Anything out of the ordinary?'  
  
'Well, no, not really.'  
  
'Is your front door normally on latch?' Catherine asked.  
  
'How do you know that?' The woman asked confused.  
  
'We were here yesterday. Sara Sidle is a co-worker.'  
  
'Ah. Sara's a lovely girl. And yes, to answer your question. Damn lock broke a good week ago and the land lord still hasn't had it fixed.'  
  
'You're moving out?' Catherine asked, nodding at the to let sign.  
  
'I retire next week. I'm going back East, to be near my daughter and her family.' The woman explained.  
  
'Is there anything, even something you might think has nothing to do with this, that is different round here?' Catherine asked.  
  
Mrs Jackson seemed to consider something, as her eyes strayed past Catherine's, over her shoulder. 'Well, there is that car.' She finally said.  
  
'The green Ford?' Brass questioned.  
  
'Yes. It's been there all yesterday. I've never seen it before, and this is a quiet street.'  
  
Brass looked at the car, before pulling out his radio. He stepped aside as he talked to control, getting the registration details of the car.  
  
He didn't like the answer.  
  
He excused them all the Mrs Jackson, and led Warrick and Catherine away from the crowds. 'Car's registered to a Michael Laskey.'  
  
The name registered as familiar but it took a moment for it to sink in properly. 'Mike Laskey, the boyfriend?' Catherine asked.  
  
'One and the same.' Brass told her.  
  
'What on earth would he be doing here?' Catherine asked confused.  
  
'I don't know. But everything suddenly got a whole lot messier.' Brass told them to stay put as he went to speak to the officer in charge of the scene. Telling them to stay put, that they had a suspect's name. To consider him armed and dangerous.  
  
An incident van had been set up, so Brass, with Warrick and Catherine stepped into it for some privacy.  
  
'So, the case Sara gets suspended on, stalks her home.' Warrick asked.  
  
'Why aren't we going in? Shot's fired- Sara could be dead!' Catherine said, confused and bewildered by this sudden turn of events.  
  
'We have to make sure that the scene is contained. We don't want an armed suspect on the run. If Sara's dead, this is damage control. If she's not, then we'll try the negotiation route.'  
  
'Who's to say Sara's even there?'  
  
'Her car's here. I think we can safely assume that for now.' Brass said to Warrick. He turned to Catherine. 'You might want to phone Grissom now.'  
  
Sara had heard the response to the gun shot. Heard sirens coming to a rushed stop outside, people milling around. Here, sitting with Mike and the gun it felt surreal, like it was happening to someone else. That the sounds of the police were coming to help someone else.  
  
She idly wondered if anyone from the lab knew yet. Whether anyone cared. Greg might, she thought to herself. Maybe he would miss her.  
  
She pulled her attention back to the here and now, after finding her thoughts centring on who would turn up to her funeral. When had she started thinking of this as the end? It scared her that her thoughts were turning so melancholy. She looked up at Mike. She should be working on him. Trying to figure out the connection, what had got him so whiled up that he thought holding her at gun point was such a hot idea. All she really wanted to do was sleep, though. Sleep sounded nice.  
  
Grissom was out in the field, so Catherine paged him, and then phoned Nick instead. After a very much shortened version of what was going on, Catherine asked him to run background checks on Mike, see if there was any reason other than the present case to suggest why Mike had taken such a dislike to Sara.  
  
The sitting down and waiting got old real quick. The only activity of any note came much too slowly for the CSIs. A cop finally pulled out a loud speaker, training it towards the house.  
  
'We know you're in there. It would be in your interests to surrender yourself and your weapons.'  
  
'The police are here.' Sara said unnecessarily.  
  
Mike gave her a hard look. 'Oh, won't that be fun. They weren't meant to come.'  
  
'Well you fired the shot.' Sara pointed out childishly.  
  
'You made me.' He fired back.  
  
'Show yourselves now. Release anyone you may be holding, and surrender your weapons.'  
  
'Maybe you should give up your gun.' Sara told him.  
  
'I don't think so.'  
  
'It's gonna end, Mike.'  
  
'It shouldn't have come to this.'  
  
'We will be calling the house. Please answer the phone so that we can talk.'  
  
'You should have stopped me back then.'  
  
'I don't know what you're talking about.' Sara pleaded desperately.  
  
'Too bad.'  
  
The phone ringing barely cut into his icy glare. He glanced at it before looking straight back at her, almost like he was studying every last detail of her.  
  
'No one's picking up.' Brass said.  
  
Catherine's cell rang. 'Willows.'  
  
'It's Nick. Might have found something. Mike and his family own a house in San Francisco. Several times the police have been called out there, mostly with Mike threatening people, usually a girlfriend of the time, assault mainly.'  
  
'What has this got to do with.'  
  
Nick cut her off. 'Sara was the CSI on one of the cases, assault with intent of one of the girlfriends.'  
  
'I still don't get it.'  
  
'Well, neither do I. All I know is that she knew Mike, four years ago, on another case.'  
  
'Thanks Nicky. Keep digging.'  
  
Catherine detailed it out for the others.  
  
'What so he's.escalating or something?' Warrick finally asked.  
  
'He certainly seems to like being in control. I mean, the assault charge could just be the beginning.'  
  
'All those calls to the police- he can't be very good.' Brass commented.  
  
'Her name was Lydia. It could have been anyone of them though.'  
  
Sara was startled by his sudden voice filling the quiet. She looked over at him. 'Lydia.' She said flatly.  
  
His face twisted for a moment with anger, but he held his temper. 'You came to the house, asking stupid questions, how did the bruises happen. And I lied. Told you we had been playing rough. That she liked it rough. Lydia didn't say anything, couldn't have done. They all had their secrets.'  
  
'She had burns.' Sara stated, piece by piece the case coming back. 'Cigerette burns on her legs.'  
  
'Smoking is a filthy habit. Ruins your looks, makes you smell funny. And what would Mommy and daddy thought?'  
  
'What, so you taught her a lesson?'  
  
'I didn't do anything. She did it all herself.'  
  
'Lydia was the same age as you. She wouldn't talk to anyone. Just said you did it.'  
  
'Of course she did. Wouldn't admit to it, would she?'  
  
'So you made her burn herself, as punishment?' Sara clarified.  
  
Mike's hand on the gun had moved, tracing the other arm with a finger. For a moment he seemed to forget he was meant to be holding her at gunpoint.  
  
'Was that Keely's punishment, as well? She slept around, so she had to kill herself?'  
  
'What kind of reputation is that? Whore. Not gonna look good on the CV. Dear old mommy would have freaked. I did everyone a favour.'  
  
'What did the others do?' Sara asked quietly.  
  
'They all had their bad habits, you know?' He asked, tears rolling gently down his face. 'They all had it coming. Swear too much, you get your mouth washed out with soap. You lie to me, and you'll get the belt.'  
  
'Punishment.' Sara elaborated.  
  
'They all deserved to be punished.'  
  
'Like you were punished.' Sara said, closing her eyes as the enormity of it came to her. On Mike's arms were dozens of old burn marks, circular, made with a cigarette.  
  
The assault had been a cry for help as much as anything. Doing to his girlfriends, someone he could control, what was being done to him.  
  
'It's gonna be alright.' Sara said gently.  
  
'No it's not! I killed her. He said I was no use alive, so I killed her.' He yelled.  
  
'Mike, you have to let me go. I see it now.'  
  
'It's too late now. It's gone too far. Can't you see? Can't you see what he'll do to me?'  
  
'I see, Mike. We can protect you from him.'  
  
'No.'  
  
'Mike, being here, hurting me, it's not gonna solve anything.'  
  
'This is all your fault!' He screamed at her. 'If you'd seen it. I showed you my arm, but you completely denied it. You believed him instead of me!'  
  
'I'm sorry, I'm sorry. I didn't know. How could I have known.'  
  
'All you had to do was look.'  
  
Sara closed her eyes, opening them slowly. Mike had mirrored her movement, closing his eyes, wiping away the tears.  
  
'It's not my fault.' Sara whispered, as she dive for the gun.  
  
He moved almost at the same time. The struggle for the gun was intense, but Sara's muscles refused to be drawn into anything this soon, and cramped up, sending her sprawling, allowing Mike to get the gun.  
  
'I'm sorry you didn't see it.' Mike said, pointing the gun at himself.  
  
Sara gulped, looking down the barrel.  
  
'I'm sorry you couldn't stop me killing her.' Mike said, his finger tensing on the trigger. 'I'm sorry it came to this.' He said, as he turned the gun round, and pulled the trigger, blood and brain matter flying through the air to land on the astounded Sara.  
  
The police didn't wait for a second shot, but ran full tilt into the apartment building, weapons in hand, kicking Sara's door down. They cleared the room, Sara still sprawled on the floor, unable to move, unable to take her eyes off what was left of Mike's head.  
  
'Sara!' Catherine was the first to reach her, followed closely by Warrick.  
  
The tears started down her face before she could stop them. 'It's all my fault, it's all my fault.'  
  
'Shh.' Catherine said gently, turning her over and with Warrick's help getting her sitting. 'It's ok. It's all over.'  
  
'It was all a cry for help. His dad did it to him, so he did it to them. And I didn't see it. I didn't see it.'  
  
'Shh. Why should you have. You saw him once. Where were social services, the school. This isn't your fault.' Catherine repeated.  
  
Sara looked over at the body of the teenager on her floor, not even beginning to understand what had happened. All she knew was that at the end Mike was as desperate as someone could get.  
  
The end 


End file.
